


the light by which my spirit's born

by starr_falling



Category: The Mummy Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Community: smallfandombang, GFY, M/M, Romance, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being attacked by a werewolf, Ardeth goes to the O'Connells looking for a safe place to spend his first full moon. Jonathan is the only one in residence and agrees to guard Ardeth to ensure he doesn't escape and hurt anyone when he transforms. </p>
<p>The enforced closeness brings them together and they begin a relationship even though they're uncertain what will happen after the full moon, when Ardeth must return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the light by which my spirit's born

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [smallfandombang](http://smallfandombang.livejournal.com/). Title is from _silently if,out of not knowable_ by E. E. Cummings.
> 
> And don’t forget to check out deinonychus_1's absolutely stunning [Artwork](http://deinonychus-1.livejournal.com/186527.html)!

[ ](http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y180/starr_falling/mummy%20cover%20v2.jpg)

The last thing Jonathan expected to find when he opened the manor door, was a disheveled Medjai.

“Ardeth, old chap, you are not looking well,” he stated bluntly. “You're not being chased by mummies, by any chance?” Jonathan ushered Ardeth inside even as he squinted at the shadows suspiciously.

“My troubles are not so dire as that,” Ardeth smiled wryly as he spoke.

“Ah, but you don't deny there is trouble.”

“Indeed not,” Ardeth sighed. “Where is O'Connell? I need to speak to him.”

Jonathan stared at the Medjai as he slumped wearily against the wall. He looked as worn as if he'd been chased here by every mummy in Egypt. At least he appeared uninjured.

“Bad luck, I'm afraid,” Jonathan directed him into the front parlor. “Evy was asked to consult on something or other in New York. She'll be gone for months and she didn't want to be separated from Rick or Alex for that long, so they've made a bit of a holiday of it.”

“So you're here alone,” Ardeth mused, continuing to stand and staring at the comfortable furniture as if it was a foreign concept. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

“For the best?” Jonathan sputtered. “I don't know what problem you intended to drop in Rick's lap, but I doubt I would make a good stand in. While I'm quite sure I can ably handle most things, I must admit Rick has a certain flair when it comes to the more, shall we say, physical problems.”

“What I need is a secure dungeon, and a good shot, both of which you can certainly provide.” Ardeth straightened up and marched back into the hall.

“What?” Jonathan demanded and belatedly started following the other man.

Jonathan trailed after the other man as he easily navigated his way through their home. He found it rather unsettling how familiar the Medjai seemed to be with the manor given it was only his second time being there–at least, as far as Jonathan was aware.

“Um, are you going to elaborate on why, _exactly_ , you need a dungeon and my dreadfully good aim?” Jonathan was briefly distracted by the wry grin Ardeth tossed over his shoulder, but rallied admirably. Knocking into the door frame had nothing to do with it and was entirely intentional. “And how do you even know we have dungeons?” He failed to mention it had taken him six months to realize they existed.

The line of Ardeth's back tensed but he didn't stop walking. “That is a complicated tale, and one I am more than willing to share, but it will have to wait until you are armed and I am sufficiently secured.”

Jonathan stopped short and stared at his retreating back, mouth working soundlessly.

“Wait, _what_?” he finally spluttered out and raced after the Medjai.

“Jonathan, please,” Ardeth pleaded quietly, half turning to pin him with sorrow filled eyes.

“Right, right,” Jonathan said. “You head on down since you seem to know where you're going anyhow and I'll go get my rifle.”

Jonathan hurried to the gun room, thoughts whirling. Theories, each more ridiculous than the last, flew through his mind. But he couldn't think of one single reason Ardeth would wish to be locked in their dungeon and have him stand guard to boot.

He picked up his favorite rifle, and did a quick but thorough check. He grabbed a handgun as well as enough ammo to start a small war. Then, remembering the kind of trouble Ardeth usually dealt with, he grabbed twice as much.

The walk down to the dungeon seemed to take an age, and yet, all too soon, he was staring at Ardeth who had indeed locked himself inside a bare cell. The Medjai was seated on the floor, arms slung across his knees, head tipped back against the wall. He had closed the door and left the key in the lock.

Jonathan carefully leaned the rifle against the wall outside the cell. Ardeth undoubtedly heard him, but didn't react until Jonathan turned the key, the loud snap of the bolt shooting home echoing loudly.

“There. You're locked up tight, and I'm loaded for bear. It's time for you to start explaining.” Jonathan had meant for his voice to be stern and commanding–rather like Evy's really–but it betrayed him, coming out softly.

After a long moment, Ardeth tipped his head forward, staring at Jonathan intently from beneath lowered brows. “Tell me, my friend, what do you know of werewolves?”

“Werewolves?” Jonathan gaped at Ardeth. “What are you on about? You're meant to be telling me what's going on, not prattling on about fairy tales.”

Ardeth did not respond, merely gazed serenely at the Englishman.

“Oh god, of course they're real,” he complained, beginning to pace in front of the cell. “First mummies and now werewolves. What else is real? Vampires? Witches? Nessie?”

Ardeth chuckled, eliciting a scowl from the other man. “Vampires are myth as far as I'm aware, and you have seen magic users yourself. As for the Loch Ness Monster, I do not know the truth of that one.”

“Fine, not important,” Jonathan huffed, stopping directly across from him. “What is important, is why you are locked in my dungeon, and what werewolves have to do with it.”

“The simplest answer, is that I was bitten by one.” Ardeth watched as Jonathan's face went through a myriad of expressions in a matter of moments before realization dawned. He might not possess his sister's sheer genius, but any who would discount his intelligence was a fool.

“In the legends, being bitten by a wolf or werewolf is one of the ways to become one yourself,” he said slowly, leaning against the bars separating them. “And there's a full moon tonight if I'm not mistaken.”

“You are not,” Ardeth confirmed.

“That still begs the question of why the guns?” Jonathan asked, though he did not look uncertain.

“This dungeon has not been used since your family took up residence, at the least,” Ardeth said. It was difficult to converse with the itching beneath his skin. “There is no guarantee it is still sound. I cannot be allowed to harm you or anyone else.”

“And you just expect me to shoot you?” Jonathan demanded in fierce tone.

“I expect you to defend yourself.” Ardeth growled, unable to stop himself from surging to his feet and pacing his cell. He continued when Jonathan opened his mouth. “I could not live with myself if I were to hurt someone–if I killed or turned you, my friend. Do not ask that of me.”

“And yet you seem to have no qualms of asking me to do the same.” Jonathan's face was flushed, mouth a thin line.

“I am sorry.” Ardeth stopped pacing, mirroring Jonathan's position on the other side of the bars. “It is a cruel thing for me to ask, but circumstances are out of my control, and there is no other I can turn to.”

Jonathan sighed, eyes falling closed and hands gripping the bars so hard his knuckles whitened. “Is there no other way?”

“There is no time for anything else,” Ardeth whispered, regret heavy in his chest.

“Of course, not,” Jonathan all but whispered. “There never is.”

Jonathan pushed back from the bars and seated himself tailor style against the wall. Ardeth mirrored him inside the cell. Jonathan's normally open face was inscrutable as he studied Ardeth in silence for long minutes.

“Well, we at least have time for the complicated answer, don't we?” he finally asked.

Ardeth already felt a strange energy moving through him, leaving behind an itching desire to move. But there was still time before moon rise. And Jonathan certainly deserved an explanation.

“Yes, there is time for that,” Ardeth shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Everything,” Jonathan's tone and expression conveyed how obvious he thought his answer. “How did you manage to get bit by a werewolf in the first place? And why would you come here?”

“I came here, as this is the closest place where I have allies and a way to confine myself during the full moon.” Ardeth continued at Jonathan's look of surprise. “The return of the creature is not the only thing the Medjai watch for. There are other things of great danger and evil in this world.”

“And you were dealing with one before all this?” Jonathan waved his hand vaguely to encompass Ardeth and the cell.

“No,” Ardeth rolled his shoulders to try and ease some of his tension. “The information we received proved inaccurate. After a brief investigation, I determined there was no danger.”

“Well, that was bloody wrong,” Jonathan said wryly.

Ardeth nodded in agreement. “True enough, though the danger came in a completely unexpected and unrelated form.”

“But why would a werewolf attack you? And how?” Jonathan asked. “If you didn't have time to travel somewhere else for safety, it must have happened recently, yet tonight's the full moon.”

“I do not know why I was attacked, as the 'wolf in question did not survive the encounter.” It was more gratifying than it should have been that Jonathan smirked at that. “As for how, a werewolf must change at the full moon, but they may choose to do so outside of then as well.”

“So a 'wolf could turn at anytime?” Jonathan stumbled slightly over the shortened term. “Is it triggered by anger or fear? Will you ever be able to safely leave the cell?”

Ardeth could not help but smile at Jonathan's evident concern. “It is not a curse as the myths say. The transformation and all that comes with it can be controlled, it merely takes time. I am not doomed to be a mindless beast.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Jonathan muttered.

“I find it so as well, my friend.” Jonathan jumped, staring at him with wide eyes. Ardeth was suddenly aware that the man had likely not expected him to hear such a low utterance. With that awareness came another. He could feel the moon, trembling on the cusp of the horizon. His blood sang with the feeling of it so close.

“It is nearly time,” he informed his companion. He stood and began to strip quickly. A choking sound drew his attention back to Jonathan.

“What the devil are you doing?” he asked, voice oddly strangled.

“The clothes will not survive my transformation,” Ardeth said as he continued to disrobe. “As I've no others with me, I would prefer not to destroy these needlessly.”

“Ah, of course,” Jonathan said, eyes averted. Ardeth smiled again before passing his clothes through the bars. “I'll just, uh, keeps these safe for you, then.”

Ardeth opened his mouth to tease him, but his breath left him in a strangled moan. Sudden, searing pain swept over his entire body, freezing his breath and forcing him double. He was aware of Jonathan speaking to him, but could not discern what he said, nor respond. All he could focus on was the pain that sliced along all his nerves at once, leaving behind prickling heat.

Then he knew no more.

“By the gods, Ardeth? Ardeth!” Jonathan clutched Ardeth's clothes to his chest, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him. The Medjai was bent double, body jerking uncontrollably. He moaned again then shouted out one, choked off scream.

There were several loud, wet snaps and Ardeth dropped to his knees. Something appeared to be shifting under his skin before thick black hair pushed out from it. Ardeth's moans and gasps took on a deeper and harsher timber, abruptly becoming growls. Jonathan was guiltily grateful his hair had fallen forward to shadow his face, for he didn't think he could have stood to watch it change.

Finally, there was silence, the large dark shape lying still on the dungeon floor. Jonathan had no idea how long the transformation had taken. It had at once seemed a long drawn out agony and too fast to truly grasp any details of the change.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan whispered, heart pounding where it seemed lodged in his throat. His own breathing was loud enough that he couldn't hear whether or not Ardeth still breathed. He held his breath but still could not hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears.

He released his breath in a whoosh and stepped towards the bars. A low growl drew him up short. The dark shape moved before stilling again. Jonathan counted his breaths; at 17 it moved again. The movement resolved into a head, dark furred with large amber eyes and a long muzzle. Those eyes held Jonathan's for a long moment before looking away.

The creature climbed slowly to it's feet, unsteady at first. It shook its body briefly, sending fur flying, before settling back into place.

It was, without a doubt, a wolf.

A large, black wolf that suddenly hurled itself against the cell bars with a snarl. Jonathan yelped as his back slammed into a cold stone wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He groped beside him until his fingers caught the barrel of the rifle.

He pulled the gun to him, distantly noticing he had dropped Ardeth's clothes at some point. He pressed the gun to his chest, clutching it tightly enough that his knuckles went white.

But he didn't raise it; didn't point it.

It was the height of foolishness. Here before him was not the Medjai he trusted with his life, with his family's lives. Here was a wild animal, one far larger than a normal wolf, repeatedly hurling itself against the one thing keeping it from Jonathan. If Ardeth remembered a moment of this come morning he would no doubt chastise Jonathan. The thought of earning the other man's disapproval twisted his stomach but raising arms against him made his chest tighten to the point of pain.

Jonathan prayed to every deity he could think of that the cell was still sound.

It was minutes, or perhaps hours, later when the wolf slumped against the bars, growls tapering off. Jonathan didn't move a muscle, eying the great beast wearily. It took far too long for Jonathan to realize he was being watched in turn. There was an intelligence there, far beyond what he had ever seen in even the cleverest dogs. Jonathan wondered if it was Ardeth looking out at him, mind regained even if his form remained inhuman.

Before he could talk himself out of trying something foolish, he uncurled one hand from the stock of the rifle, fingers aching as he forced them flat and reached out towards the bars. The wolf turned its head to slip its muzzle between the bars, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. The large–extremely large–razor sharp fangs gave Jonathan pause.

He jerked back suddenly, the sharp pain of skull meeting wall stunning him so it was several quick breaths before he realized what he was even reacting to.

The wolf's–Ardeth's–head was thrown back, an eerie howl emerging from his throat. Jonathan had never heard a wolf's howl from so up close, and the confined space of the dungeon amplified the sound, making it intolerably loud.

“Good god, old chap,” Jonathan's voice cracked in a throat that felt as dry as the Sahara. “is all that racket really necessary?”

Miraculously, Ardeth quieted down. Jonathan opened his mouth to make what would have no doubt been a pithy comment. But before he could utter his biting wisdom there was another howl. That one did not come from his wolf companion, who stood silent, head cocked and ears perked.

The howl from outside rose and fell, seeming distant one moment and chillingly close the next. It was joined by a second howl, then a third. Then Ardeth joined in the chorus, drowning out anything that Jonathan might otherwise have heard.

“Friends of yours?” Jonathan quipped once silence fell once more. He chuckled and wiped sweat from his brow and the back of his neck. It was oddly chilled. “What am I saying, of course not. There are no other werewolves in London. It's probably just a pack of dogs.

“Yes, just some stray dogs,” Jonathan went to sit, only then realizing he still had one hand clenched around the rifle barrel. He set it aside and slid down the wall. He wouldn't need it after all, as their dungeon appeared to be werewolf proof.

Ardeth wolf didn't seem interested in any further attempts at jailbreak and was instead pacing around the cell, sniffing at the floors and walls. He pushed himself upright resting his front paws on the sill of the cell's small window. Jonathan could just hear his snuffling over the ringing in his ears. Thankfully, he seemed over his need to try and deafen Jonathan, for he remained silent save the occasional yip or growl.

It didn't take long for Ardeth to lose interest in the window. He dropped back to all fours and padded back over to the bars. He sat staring at Jonathan intently. Jonathan stared back, at a loss as to what else to do.

“This is going to be a long night,” he muttered. Ardeth grumbled in return, seeming to agree with him. With nothing else to do, Jonathan settled in and began to speak. “Did I ever tell you about the time I played cards with...”

The hours passed slowly, and Jonathan's voice gave out long before the moon dropped below the horizon. He was in a silent daze and only the sound of the wolf whimpering brought him back to full awareness. The sound of bones breaking seemed even louder in the pre-dawn hush. In a blink, black fur had receded leaving behind warm glowing skin.

Ardeth's eyes meet his, dark with pain, for a mere moment before the Medjai collapsed. “Ardeth?” Jonathan tried to speak, only to cough, throat painfully dry. Ardeth didn't stir. Jonathan stood on unsteady legs, mentally cursing as his knees tried to fold. He held himself up against the wall until he no longer felt in danger of falling.

He crossed to the cell door, hesitating with key in hand. In the dim light he couldn't tell whether Ardeth's back was rising, and if he was breathing, it was too quietly to be heard. Surely, the danger was gone now that the Medjai had returned to human form. Jonathan debated with himself for a moment longer before he gave in to the need to check that his friend was alright.

Decision made, Jonathan unlocked and opened the cell door quickly. He knelt at Ardeth's side, hand going to his throat. Ardeth's pulse beat strongly beneath his fingers. Jonathan's shoulders slumped and he swayed forward as tension seeped out of his body. He brushed Ardeth's hair out of his face revealing sleep lax features.

“Well, we made it through the night,” Jonathan chuckled, coughing again. “Guess there's nothing left to do but wait for you to wake up from your beauty sleep.”

Jonathan stripped off his jacket, balling it up and easing it under Ardeth's head. His eyes swept over the new werewolf's form relieved to see that while there were many scars, there were no new wounds. It was only when his eyes went from assessing to admiring the strong muscles of Ardeth's back, the way it dipped before the swell of his ass, that Jonathan realized he was staring at his unconscious friend.

His eyes snapped up to the ceiling, face heating. He stood and made his way back outside the cell. He grabbed Ardeth's robe and shook it out over the still form. He tried not to look at him at all but couldn't resist one last glimpse before the material settled completely.

He sat back to wait for Ardeth to awaken, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the fine form the Medjai hid beneath his robes.

Ardeth woke all at once. Everything ached with a deep burn, as though he had performed back to back sessions of the most grueling training a Medjai could do. His head throbbed in sync with his pulse. He lay as still as possible, barely breathing as even that hurt beyond reasoning.

It was only the gradual awareness of another's proximity that finally roused him fully. He could hear the steady beat of a heart not his own, accompanied by gentle breathing, and the occasional rustle of clothing. A deeper breath and he realized he could smell nothing beyond Jonathan's spicy cologne.

Ardeth opened his eyes to mere slits, bright sunlight hiding his surroundings from view. It felt like an age before his eyes adjusted sufficiently to take in the stone walls and floor that was all in his immediate field of vision. It was only as he tried to turn his head to find the source of the heartbeat that he realized he was laying on his stomach on the same stone floor. It took another moment to realize his face wasn't pressed to the floor, instead–slightly–cushioned by a balled up cloth that was saturated with the spicy scent.

It took all the strength and fortitude he could summon to push himself to hands and knees. For one moment, the rush of blood in his ears was all that he could hear, all that existed in his world. He swayed, muscles trembling until he forced his elbows to lock.

“–deth? Ardeth!” Jonathan's voice broke through his concentration. “Are you alright? Can you hear me? Ardeth?”

“I am fine,” Ardeth attempted to say, but broke off in a coughing fit.

“Sound as dry as I do, old chap,” Jonathan murmured, much closer than Ardeth had realized. “Let's get you up and we can both be properly watered.”

Ardeth nodded his assent, carefully pushing back to sit on his heels before attempting to fully stand. As he shifted, he felt a curious slithering sensation down his back. A glance over his shoulder showed his robe pooled behind and beneath him. It also showed Jonathan's hand on his shoulder, and Ardeth could not figure out how he could have missed either before.

He pondered both revelations while he waited for his muscles to stop trembling and his head to stop spinning. The longer he was awake, the more his thoughts cleared, and it did not take long to reach a dissatisfied conclusion.

“You should not have entered the cell,” he spoke slowly, hoping to stave off another coughing fit. “until I spoke to you and proved my mind had returned to me.”

“Balderdash!” Jonathan retorted. “You were human again, where was the danger? And even if there was some chance your mind hadn't returned, you passed out the moment you were human again.”

“May I remind you, I am dangerous even when human,” Ardeth ground out as he slowly shrugged into his robe.

“May _I_ remind _you_ , that you were unconscious,” Jonathan's words were biting even as his hands were gentle as he helped Ardeth stand.

Ardeth did not let go immediately once he was upright, staring into Jonathan's eyes from up close. He took a deep breath, the air saturated with the Englishman's scent.

“Forgive me, my friend,” he murmured, swaying forward til their foreheads nearly touched. “I thank you for your help and care, I was only concerned for your well being.”

Jonathan sniffed, but his muscles eased under Ardeth's grip. “Yes, well, I suppose I can understand, as I was concerned for you as well.” Jonathan pulled back, though he didn't entirely release his grip on Ardeth's arm, steadying him as they left the cell. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Tired, mostly,” Ardeth stretched once he was free of the confining walls of the cell. “A bit sore, as if I had run all night. I am well, truly, if quite hungry.”

“Hmm,” Jonathan led the way out of the dungeon. “You did pace for most of the night, and the change looked and sounded extremely painful. I'd be rather surprised if you weren't a little sore.

The rest of the trip to the kitchen passed in silence. Ardeth wondered what Jonathan was thinking about, for he looked far too grim. Ardeth could think of nothing to draw the man out, as it was likely his predicament that caused the too serious expression. Once they had both drunk deeply, Jonathan started putting out a simple meal of bread, cheese and meat.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Once his stomach no longer felt hollow, Ardeth spoke up. “Thank you.”

Jonathan blinked at him, face blank. “Of course, what are friends for?”

“There are many whose friendship would not extend to spending the night guarding a werewolf and agreeing to shoot him if need be,” Ardeth smiled wryly, and Jonathan returned it halfheartedly.

“Well, most people don't become friends while fighting evil mummies. This hardly puts a strain on the relationship.”

Ardeth thought that that was not quite the truth, but did not press the matter.

“You should sleep,” Ardeth commented as Jonathan yawned. “You kept watch over me all night and even after I changed back, and you will need to be well rested for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jonathan's brow furrowed briefly before smoothing out. “Of course, the moon is full for three nights, so you'll be a wolf for three nights.”

“Yes,” Ardeth confirmed.

“Well, then,” Jonathan stood. “We'd best both get some rest then. I'd show you to a guest room, but you seem to know your way around, so you should have no problem finding one on your own. Good night, or afternoon as it were.”

“Sleep well,” Ardeth smiled as he watched Jonathan walk away before going in search of a bed of his own.

Jonathan once again found himself in the dungeon, sitting upon the cold stone floor across from Ardeth, separated from the Medjai by the bars of the same cell they'd used the night before. Though this time he was better prepared. In addition to his guns, he had food, water and blankets. He'd considered bringing the whiskey with him but felt it better to keep a clear head. It was unlikely Ardeth would escape the cell but being prepared would give them both peace of mind.

Watching Ardeth pace the small cell was nerve-racking. “What will you do? After the full moon?” Jonathan clarified at Ardeth's look.

“I will return to the Medjai.” Ardeth finally stilled, eyes distant as though trying to see his home. “Though not werewolves, the clan is enough like a pack that it should help settle my wolf.”

“Oh,” Jonathan wasn't sure he understood.

“Yes,” Ardeth smiled at him. “Werewolves, like natural wolves, are pack creatures. Being around them, the bonds we share, will help me control my instincts, and will provide the necessary feeling of safety so that the wolf is not always on guard and close to the surface. Without such, it would take much longer to learn control.”

“Would an actual pack of werewolves help more?” Jonathan asked, concerned that his friend would suffer in his care for that lack. “Are there none in England?” He couldn't help but think of the howling from last night.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Ardeth replied after some thought. “While other 'wolves may know how to teach me to control my instincts, there is no pack that would feel like home the way my clan does.

“And though there are 'wolf packs in England, none are close enough to London that I could safely travel to one before moon rise. I might make it in time if I left just after moonset tomorrow, but it would be a bad idea.”

“Oh, I would think any pack would be better than none,” Jonathan said, trying not to think about why he was so relieved.

“Ah, no, werewolves are just as territorial as natural wolves.” Ardeth sat down across from him, seeming more relaxed with something to focus on. “An unknown 'wolf showing up in their territory would not be well received. A newly bitten one doubly so.”

“Why doubly so?” Jonathan had started the conversation mostly to try and keep Ardeth calm, but found himself genuinely fascinated by the subject.

“As a new 'wolf, I lack control and my instincts would make me very aggressive toward unknown 'wolves. I likely wouldn't be able to stop myself from attacking them as soon as I'd changed. They would never tolerate such a danger in their territory.”

“So they would, uh,” Jonathan stumbled to a halt, unable to bring himself to voice the words out loud.

“They would have killed me.” Ardeth said, not unkindly. “They would not tolerate such a threat to their territory, nor could they simply drive me away. With no control, I would likely hurt or kill someone, and they couldn't risk that such actions would lead to their own discovery.”

“Ah, that's very–practical.” Jonathan said carefully.

“It sounds cold but necessity often is. It is likely they would also be unhappy were someone to die because they had not stopped me,” Ardeth stood again and turned so his back was to Jonathan as he looked out the window. “If you'll recall, such necessity lead me to attack your camp in Hamunaptra.”

“You had the fate of the world to consider,” Jonathan pointed out.

“They would have the fate of all their kind to consider,” Ardeth returned, still not facing him.

“Yes, well,” Jonathan shifted, aware that the Medjai had a point, but not wanting to agree with it. “Then it's a good think you came here instead. And after tomorrow night, you can go home and it will be a moot point.”

“Yes,” Ardeth sighed. He finally turned back around, sliding down the wall until he was seated across from Jonathan once more. He looked paler than Jonathan had ever seen, and there were new lines of stress around his eyes, highlighted by the dark circles bruising the flesh.

“You don't sound all that happy about it,” Jonathan paused after speaking, perhaps it was best not to poke what was clearly a delicate subject. But he was worried about his friend, had been worried about him from the moment he'd set eyes upon his tired face the day before.

“It will be good to go home, do not mistake me,” Ardeth finally replied. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes before speaking again. “And being home will help with–with this. But it will also change everything.”

“Ah,” Jonathan was beginning to see the problem. “It will be real then, once you return to your normal life and things are different.”

“That as well,” Ardeth sighed again. “But the changes will be more lasting than just how I spend the full moon from now on. There are instincts that come with this change of form, as we discussed. Instincts that would run counter to my oaths of leadership of the Medjai. I will have to step down.

“Even before I took up the mantle of leadership, I was trained for it my entire life. I do not know what I will do now.”

“I–I don't understand–” Jonathan started, but was cut off by a moan. “Ardeth?”

“It is nearly time.” Ardeth's voice was strained as he stood. As the night before, he began stripping rapidly. Jonathan didn't look away this time, though it was concern that kept his eyes riveted to the other man's face.

He took Ardeth's clothes as he handed them through the bars. He gripped the Medjai's hand for one moment.

“Don't fight it,” he said once he had Ardeth's attention. “Maybe–maybe it won't hurt as much if you don't fight it.”

“I don't know if I can,” Ardeth said, eyes dark with some emotion Jonathan couldn't name. Then his face contorted in pain, and he drew back, dropping to his knees in the center of the cell as his body answered the moon's call.

Watching Ardeth transform was somehow even worse than the first time. He supposed then there was some level of fascination, of curiosity, to temper the horror of what was happening. It seemed to last much longer as well, though that might have just been his skewed perceptions.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan couldn't help but call once the wolf was slumped on the floor. The creature's– _Ardeth's_ –ears twitched but he didn't move otherwise. “Ardeth, are you alright?”

Jonathan held his breath and leaned as close to the bars as he could without actually touching them. He was concentrating so hard on trying to see or hear Ardeth's breathing, that he didn't immediately notice he was being watched in return. Again he perceived an intelligence he had never before seen in an animal but there seemed to be no recognition.

Jonathan sighed and settled back into the same position he'd spent the night before.

Time dragged on interminably.

Jonathan played cards, watched Ardeth and spoke to himself when the silence got too oppressive.

Ardeth alternated between lying down and pacing. He didn't once rush the bars, or try to escape or get at Jonathan. In fact, the only time he paid attention to Jonathan at all, was when he brought out the food. Jonathan tried to ignore the wolf but his whining was truly pathetic. He tossed several pieces of meat his way, cringing as the wolf snapped them up.

It was the least exciting night Jonathan had ever spent in the Medjai's presence. He should probably be grateful, but mostly he was tired and going stir crazy

“I suppose it could be worse,” Jonathan murmured. “Our positions could be reversed.”

Ardeth's head tilted as though curious as to what Jonathan was nattering on about. His body was tense, but not aggressive. Neither was his posture open and welcoming like the dogs Jonathan was used to being around.

“I do wish you could talk back,” he said. “For all that I consider you a dear friend, there is so little I actually know of you.”

It might have been silly, talking to someone who couldn't talk back and likely would never remember this. But it was relaxing as well, to speak without worry of censure, and at least it gave the illusion he wasn't alone. Another night with only his own thoughts for company would do him no good.

“What do you like to do when not hunting evil mummies? How were you chosen to lead the Medjai? Did you want to do it? Why does that have to change now?”

Jonathan sighed and reached for the water. He supposed it was rather pointless to question someone who couldn't answer even if they'd wanted to. But telling stories as he'd done the night before didn't appeal either. Ardeth hadn't seemed to remember them and there was a part of him that wished to be known by Ardeth much as he wished to know all about the Medjai.

When he looked back at the cell, Ardeth had turned toward the window. Jonathan guessed that he wasn't as entertaining as whatever the wolf might've been able to sense from outside, especially once he was no longer talking.

“At least my hearing is being spared tonight,” Jonathan groused. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, the howls had truly concerned him. What if Ardeth had been wrong and there was a pack in London? What if they were looking for Ardeth even now?

“What if Imhotep shows up and asks me to waltz?” Jonathan mused. He was so busy imaging that, it took a moment for the deep growl to register.

“Don't like that idea?” he asked. Ardeth growled again, then yipped sharply. “Neither do I and it's as pointless to worry about that as everything else going through my head right now.” Ardeth huffed and returned to the window, lying down and peering up at it as if waiting for something to appear.

“Well, how do you like that?” Jonathan crossed his arms and glowered at the wolf's back. Ardeth didn't so much as flick an ear his way. “Here I am, putting life and limb on the line to help you and you ignore me. And for what? There isn't even anything interesting out there.”

Determined to ignore him right back, Jonathan pulled out the cards again and passed the time as best he could.

At least, until dawn was just barely lightening the sky outside the window. Jonathan was wrenched out of his thoughts by a long mournful howl. His eyes darted to Ardeth but the wolf was silent. A second howl joined the first and Jonathan belatedly realized it was coming from outside.

“Ah, your friends have returned,” Jonathan stood and reached out for the rifle to ensure it was still beside him. Ardeth's body was tense as the howls started up again but he did not sing out in turn.

“Not feeling chatty tonight?” Jonathan couldn't tear his eyes away from Ardeth's stiff legged form. The calls came for a third time, before the unnatural hush of dawn fell once more.

Minutes that felt like days passed, until the silence was broken by a pained whimper. Ardeth's fur rippled as his body arched unnaturally.

The return to human form was as slow and painful looking as shedding it had been. It left Ardeth on his hands and knees, head hanging down, face obscured by his hair.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan approached the bars slowly.

“Jonathan,” Ardeth's voice was more croak than word. Jonathan abandoned his rifle in favor of Ardeth's clothes and the water.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said, voice much clearer once he had drunk his fill.

“Come on, let's get you up,” Jonathan said. He helped Ardeth stand, grabbing his shoulders when he stumbled. “There's a bed that will be so much more comfortable than a dungeon floor.”

The going was slow but Ardeth was a warm weight against him as they stumbled to the room the Medjai was using. The other man was asleep the moment he fell into the bed. Jonathan struggled to get him under the covers, two long nights wearing on him.

Once he finally had Ardeth as comfortable as he could make him, Jonathan collapsed into the chair next to the bed. He just needed a moment to recover his breath.

Ardeth woke slowly. He was warm and comfortable and some part of him registered surprise at that. Most of him was content to bury his face in the soft cloth that smelled faintly of himself overlaying a smell of musty disuse.

It took longer for him to parse what he was hearing. There was soft breathing not his own. A heartbeat out of rhythm with his pulse. The rustle of cloth while he lay still. Finally, his brain connected these things into the thought that he was not alone.

He stretched as he rolled over, pausing to arch his back til it cracked, before turning on his side to face the rest of the room.

Jonathan was slumped in a chair next to his bed, fast asleep. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles tense and brows drawn together to form a line. Even asleep he looked worried.

Ardeth winced knowing he was the cause of Jonathan's worries. He wished there had been some way to get through this that had not burdened his friend so. The only relief in sight was that the full moon was nearly over. One more night and Jonathan would be able to return to his normal life.

Not that Ardeth thought that that would truly stop the other man from worrying. Jonathan might play the fool but he'd seen the man with his family and how it pained him when they were in danger.

It was likely that Ardeth's departure would only make him worry about what he didn't know was happening to Ardeth, instead of what he did.

Ardeth pushed back the covers and swung his legs off the bed. His muscles ached but it did not seem as bad as the day before. Nor did his head ache as fiercely. Undoubtedly it was the wonders of sleeping in an actual bed as opposed to an unforgiving stone floor.

“Jonathan,” Ardeth said as he reached out to grasp the sleeping man's knee. Jonathan grunted but did not awaken. Ardeth shook the knee in his grasp and spoke louder. “Jonathan.”

“Wha–?” Jonathan blinked blearily before suddenly sitting up straight. “Oh, damn.”

Jonathan rubbed at the back of his neck, cursing under his breath as his limbs moved stiffly.

“I thank you for watching over me, my friend,” Ardeth said, voice solemn as he could make it when he wished only to smile widely. “But I do not think your neck is happy with you right now. Perhaps this was not the best choice of resting places.”

“Too right,” Jonathan groaned as his neck popped sharply. “And to think, it was only a few short years ago that I could sleep on the ground amongst ancient ruins and wake up ready to fight the undead.”

Ardeth chuckled and watched as Jonathan stood and stretched slowly. His clothes were rumpled, as was his hair, but his eyes were bright with good humor even as he winced.

“Come, we have time yet before the moon rises, perhaps some food will help relieve our aches,” Ardeth pushed off the bed, leading Jonathan from the room.

Jonathan chatted as they made their way to the kitchen, speaking of inconsequential things. Ardeth focused on the other man, forcing his mind not to focus on all the new sights and sounds that a familiar place shouldn't have to offer.

He shouldn't be able to see the scratches on a bookshelf across the room, nor hear a clock ticking from another floor. And he most certainly _should not_ be feeling satisfied that the only fresh scents in the home were his and Jonathan's. He could still smell the O'Connells but it was part of the base smell of the house and reassuring in a way he couldn't quite explain.

They reached the kitchen in short order and Jonathan waved him to a seat at the table.

“Tea?” he asked as he grabbed a kettle.

“I don't suppose there is any possibility of coffee?” Ardeth watched as Jonathan moved around the room.

“Yes, ugh, abominable stuff,” Jonathan's face scrunched as he contemplated it. “We keep it around for Rick. Thankfully, Alex has proven sensible and hasn't developed a taste for it.”

In short order he had coffee, Jonathan had his tea and breakfast was well in hand. Jonathan moved confidently in the kitchen, never hesitating and keeping up a lively monologue as he worked. It wasn't long at all before there were two plates with simply but delicious food prepared.

“What's that look for?” Jonathan inquired as he placed a plate before Ardeth.

“I didn't know you could cook,” Ardeth took a bite and nearly moaned at the taste. “You're very good at it.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan smiled down at his plate as he began to eat. “I do most of the cooking around here. Rick can cook but he doesn't really care to and most of his meals are–serviceable.”

“And Evelyn?” Ardeth asked.

“After the third time she set the kitchen on fire, Rick banned her from cooking.” Jonathan laughed, eyes sparkling. “She's never quite gotten the knack of it. Always gets lost in her thoughts and forgets about mundane things like bread in the oven. Mother was the same. It's a good thing father loved to cook or we would've never survived childhood.”

“And your father taught you?” Jonathan's smile was soft, eyes far away and fond as he nodded. “I learned from my aunts. And I had to beg quite prettily before they would teach me.”

“Oh, I sense a story,” Jonathan put down his fork, turning his whole attention to Ardeth.

“It is no grand tale, I'm afraid,” Ardeth smiled, thinking back to when he was younger and more foolish. “Merely a tale of the folly of youth.”

“Still, it's enough to make you smile,” Jonathan pointed at his mouth. “That alone makes it worth sharing.”

“You have a point, my friend,” Ardeth set aside his own fork, taking up his cup of coffee and breathing deeply of the rich aroma. “When I was still a young boy but old enough that I had started to think of myself as a man, I often spoke and acted rashly and with little thought. I thought myself so very wise, in the way young men often do and it did not help that my friends were willing to follow my lead.

“My cousin, Nadir, who was several years older than I, often agreed and supported me, which I took as a sign that I was right.” Ardeth chuckled. “It took many years for me to realize that simply because he was older, did not mean that he was wiser and his willingness to endorse my actions did not make them the right course.

“I don't remember what we were speaking of or how we even got on such a topic but we made the grave error of dismissing cooking and such as 'women's work.' _Within_ earshot of my aunts.”

“Oh my,” Jonathan's grin was wide and not the least bit sympathetic. “I'm amazed you survived that.”

“I almost did not. My aunts took great umbrage and refused to cook anything for me or Nadir. Nor would anyone else in the clan.” Ardeth shook his head, still amazed that he had once been so foolish. “We had to cook our own food at every meal for over a month. It's a miracle we never poisoned ourselves. Nearly everything was burnt and at the same time undercooked. We could not even manage a simple porridge.”

“Oh, that is simply dreadful.” Jonathan was laughing outright, unrestrained guffaws. “And no less than what you deserved.”

“Father said as much when I complained to him,” Ardeth agreed. “He told me that a man owns up to his mistakes and deals with the consequences of his actions.

“It took another two weeks of making myself sick with my own terrible cooking before I finally apologized. I spent weeks doing the worst drudgery for my aunts before they accepted my apology. And another week of begging before they agreed to teach me.”

“I can understand why you apologized but many would leave it at that. Why ask to learn?”

“As my father pointed out, the life of a Medjai is rarely sedate. I would often be away from the clan and couldn't expect someone else to care for my needs then. And I had no desire to keep eating the way I had been.”

“Well, then it's a good thing you learned your lesson.” Jonathan picked his fork back up.

“Yes, it is.” Ardeth resumed eating as well. “Otherwise I would routinely poison myself the way Nadir still does.”

“He never apologized?” Jonathan was incredulous.

“Oh, he did,” Ardeth smirked. “And does, each time he forgets the foul taste of his own cooking and says something foolish again.”

Jonathan's laughter brightened the kitchen even as the sun hastened towards the horizon.

Watching Ardeth pace the cell restlessly was slowly driving Jonathan insane. He hadn't stopped for hours, up and moving the moment he'd been done transforming. His attention constantly swung between the window and Jonathan.

“At least you're not howling,” Jonathan muttered. The 'wolf had been nearly silent the whole night, uttering only the occasional whine or growl.

“What's got you all worked up, anyhow?” he asked. “Missing your friends?”

Jonathan would have thought the lack of howling from outside would put him in a good mood but between Ardeth's agitation and not knowing why there was silence, he was quite anxious.

He'd tried to play cards again but was too distracted to manage.

“What you need, my friend, is some brandy,” Jonathan proclaimed as he dug around in his bag. “Sadly, all I have to offer is some food and water.”

Ardeth glanced his way as he spoke but didn't stop pacing, not even when Jonathan waved some meat at him. He went so far as to toss a piece through the bars.

Ardeth didn't even glance at it.

“I really wish you could tell me what's wrong.” Jonathan sat back and nibbled on a piece of bread. “Or talk to me at all.”

That afternoon's chat had been the first time they had truly ever talked just to talk. There was no enemy to fight, no one to hunt down, no explanations on how the world was scarier than reasonable.

Just two friends, passing the time.

Jonathan had never been particularly good at making friends. Too busy looking out for himself–and Evy when she'd let him, which wasn't often once she understood how he did it–looking for a score or watching his back as many of his acquaintances were less than savory.

It was a strange moment when he'd realized that his new fortune meant that he had to look out for–well–people like him.

And even after he'd gambled it all away, there were still those that would've use him to get close to Evy and Rick.

After their second brush with the undead, he'd found himself flush again. In a rare moment of sense, he'd put Evy in charge of his finances. It was galling to have to rely on his sister that way but he was aware enough to know his own weakness and vices and he hated being a burden on her even more.

He'd done that more than enough for one lifetime.

He shook himself out of those thoughts and purposely turned them to something less melancholy. Like the mysterious werewolf still pacing in the cage before him.

Jonathan smiled to himself as he remembered Ardeth's story about learning to cook. It was hard to imagine the Medjai doing something so mundane. Or ever having been a child. He'd never thought about the other man's family or what he did when he wasn't fighting evil mummies.

In his mind, Ardeth was intrinsically bound with danger and magic and fighting for his life.

And if, occasionally, Jonathan thought about how broad his shoulders were or how wide his hands or whether his hair was as soft as it looked, well, he was only human.

But now he was wondering what Ardeth's favorite food was. Did he have tattoos anywhere else? What had happened to his mother?

And did he always wake with an easy smile and rumpled hair?

He was thinking about how he was never going to learn the answers to all his questions. Because it was the last night of the full moon and Ardeth would be leaving, if not that day, then the next.

The thought of never knowing the answers, never knowing _him_ , was suddenly unbearable.

Ardeth stretched his aching muscles as he breathed deeply. The newly wakened part of him rumbled in satisfaction that the bedding smelled less of disuse and more of him.

Something seemed off to his senses, though, impugning upon his enjoyment. Upon opening his eyes he discovered that he was alone.

The stab of disappointment was as painful as it was surprising.

Ardeth tried not to think on that too hard and instead rose to search for his missing companion. 

The moment he opened the door, he knew Jonathan must be in the kitchen. The air was redolent with spices and the scent of freshly baked bread. Ardeth inhaled deeply, mouth watering. He opened eyes he didn't remember closing and headed off.

He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and watched Jonathan for a moment. He was humming quietly as he carefully pulled a loaf of bread from the oven and placed it next to another on the counter. There were also scones and biscuits. A roast chicken sat upon the table, surrounded by numerous vegetable dishes. There was even what looked and smelled like curry and rice. 

When Jonathan turned round he smiled at Ardeth but it looked wane and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He was dressed as if for bed, complete with dressing gown.

Ardeth glanced out the window surprised to see it was already dark.

“I've slept the whole day away,” he said.

“Yes,” Jonathan replied “Is it truly surprising, what with all the difficulties the last few days have brought?”

“No, I suppose not,” Ardeth murmured. He had planned to be on his way home by now but to say so seemed ungracious. Ardeth shook off such thoughts and focused on what was. “But surely you could not have cooked all this and slept yourself?”

“Yes, well,” Jonathan shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I must confess I was unable to sleep and this seemed more productive than tossing and turning.”

“You were indeed very productive, my friend,” Ardeth said as they both took seats at the table. “And it all looks and smells delicious.”

“Hopefully, it will taste just as good,” Jonathan demurred.

They both filled their plates, silence reigning where yesterday they had spoken and laughed so freely. It was disconcerting and even the delectable meal couldn't entirely distract him from the unease it caused.

Ardeth had never know Jonathan to be so quiet. Even in the midst of fighting deadly–and dead–foes the Englishman had had much to say, even if only a sarcastic quip. It was distracting in a fight but Ardeth found he missed it now.

Missed hearing Jonathan speak of his family and to ask questions about his own.

It had only been two days, really, that they had spent time together without the immediate threat of death or a foe to face. And yet, Ardeth had already become accustomed to sharing his days and himself with Jonathan.

He watched as Jonathan picked listlessly at his food and was struck by the realization of how much he would miss this. Miss _him_.

Objectively, they hardly knew each other, had spent almost no time together. But they had fought side by side against the Creature and you learned more about a man under such circumstances than any other.

But it was only in the last two days that Ardeth had learned that Jonathan liked to cook and was quite good at it. That he was sarcastic and witty even when not under threat of death.

That he smelled of freshly baked bread, tea and spices.

“You should stay here,” Jonathan said with no preamble. “For a few days I mean. To recover.”

“I thank you for the offer,” Ardeth tried to catch Jonathan's eye but the other man didn't lift his gaze from his plate. “But the sooner I return, the sooner I can learn control and the sooner I can return my life to as normal as possible.”

“Of course, of course,” Jonathan sighed as he put down his fork and pushed away his plate. “But you must stay the night at least. It's too late to make a good start of it now, it'd be best to wait until morning.”

Jonathan stood and started around the table. “I'm afraid I must abandon you, though. It seems the late night has finally caught up with me, so if you'll excuse me, I believe I shall retire. Enjoy your dinner and your evening.”

Ardeth stood quickly and snagged Jonathan's wrist as he walked past. He held it until the other man finally looked at him.

“Thank you, Jonathan. For everything.” Ardeth held his eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. “There are not many who would be so accepting and accommodating as you have been these last few days.”

“What's a bit of fangs and fur between friends,” Jonathan said after a long pause. He spoke again before Ardeth could respond. “Good night, Ardeth.”

“Good night, Jonathan, sleep well.” Ardeth let Jonathan go and watched as he walked away.

He sat back down and continued eating without tasting a single bite. It wasn't long before he pushed his plate away, appetite gone. He cleared the table, putting the food away and cleaning up before leaving.

He wandered the halls of the manor, unable to settle. He thought to pass the time reading but none of the books held his attention. Nor did any of the many artifacts the O'Connells had collected.

He finally retreated to the courtyard out back practicing with his sword to pass the time and try to tire himself out so he could sleep.

Instead, he found himself pacing through the house following the scent of freshly baked bread, tea and spices.

The door to Jonathan's room was open and no light spilled out save the moonlight. So soon after the full moon it was still bright enough to illuminate the room. It revealed Jonathan sat upright in bed still awake and aware. He looked up at Ardeth, eyes shadowed and face blank.

Ardeth was across the room before he knew he was going to move.

Jonathan's skin was chilled against Ardeth's hands and smooth with just the faintest prickle of stubble. His eyes were wide and black as night even this close up. Ardeth glanced at his mouth, lips parting on a gasp.

“Jonathan,” Ardeth's voice rasped, shattering the silence.

“Yes,” Jonathan whispered fervently. “Yes.”

Ardeth brushed his lips against Jonathan's, the barely there touch enough to make his breath catch. 

He pulled back just enough to see Jonathan's face, to gauge his reaction. The other man's eyes were closed,but for the first time that evening his brow was smooth, free of tension.

Ardeth stroked his thumb against one cheekbone, fascinated as Jonathan's eyes fluttered open.

“What do you want, Jonathan?” Ardeth asked once he finally focused on him.

“You,” Jonathan murmured, never looking away. “Even if just for tonight.”

“Then you shall have me, as I shall have you,” Ardeth's hands slid from Jonathan's face to his shoulders, down his arms until their hands were clasped. He gently pressed his forehead to Jonathan's. “For tonight.”

Jonathan shuddered as he pressed their lips together again. He stood and pulled Jonathan up with him, never breaking the kiss, pressing the full lengths of their bodies together.

Ardeth wrapped his arms around the other man, wanting to be as close to him as was possible. Jonathan must have shared his desire as he fisted his hands in Ardeth's robes and hooked one leg around his own. With a quick tug he hadn't expected, Jonathan tumbled them onto the bed.

Ardeth pushed himself off the other man, worried he might have hurt him. Jonathan merely dragged him back down, kisses turning urgent.

Ardeth, just as affected, maneuvered them more securely on the bed not wanting a sudden movement to send them to the floor.

Once situated, clothes were shed with all haste. Bracing himself above Jonathan, Ardeth took a moment to burn the image of his lover, bathed in moonlight, into his memory. He never wanted to forget that moment.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan's voice was low and husky. It sent a most pleasurable shiver down Ardeth's spine.

“You are beautiful,” Ardeth breathed. Jonathan blinked wide eyes and Ardeth suspected were the light better, he would be flushed a lovely pink. Ardeth kissed him again before he could respond. Jonathan moaned and writhed beneath him, pulling an answering sound from Ardeth.

Suddenly needing so much more, Ardeth snaked his hand between them. The sound Jonathan made when Ardeth gripped his cock was truly inspiring. He gave the member in his hand several slow strokes, drinking ever sound Jonathan made from his lips. He opened his hand and shifted until he could grip them both.

Jonathan broke their kiss to curse. Ardeth was amused to note he did so in at least three different languages. He added his own invectives when Jonathan's hand joined his own, speeding his rhythm.

It wasn't long before he was shuddering through a release so powerful it nearly blocked out his new senses. For one endless moment, there was only the pleasure and Jonathan.

When senses returned to him, he discovered he was laying on his side with Jonathan curled into him. The other man was barely awake but he still managed to smile at Ardeth.

“Thank you,” he whispered before succumbing. Ardeth buried his face in Jonathan's hair before allowing himself to slip under as well.

Ardeth was keenly aware of Jonathan's eyes on him as he gathered the last of his few belongings. It was well past when he should have left but he had been unable to convince himself to leave the warm embrace of the other man's arms while he slept. Hadn't want Jonathan to wake alone and think he regretted what had happened.

It had been foolish, for now he knew exactly what he would be leaving behind.

But he did not regret it. He would hold the memory of that night dear through the difficult times ahead. A moment of simple human contact to remind him of why he must fight for his humanity and not let his new instincts rule him.

He looked to Jonathan as he finished his preparations. The other man nodded and they walked silently, side by side, shoulders brushing, to the front door.

Breakfast had been an equally silent affair. They had managed to stay in contact from the moment they rose until now as Jonathan paused on the threshold as Ardeth passed through it. He turned on the stoop and met Jonathan's eyes.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” Ardeth spoke softly, loath to speak the words at all.

Jonathan pulled Ardeth to him, leaning up and brushing their lips together. The kiss was feather light, an echo of their first just the night before.

When they finally parted Jonathan's eyes glimmered but he smiled brightly. “Goodbye and godspeed.” 

Ardeth turned on his heel and walked away. He could feel Jonathan's eyes upon his back until a curve in the drive blocked him from view. He kept walking down the drive, past the gates and ever away from where he most wanted to be in that moment.

Never had walking seemed to take so much effort before.

Jonathan had offered to drive him but Ardeth had refused. He had asked enough of him already. And Jonathan could hardly have sent him off in the same manner in public.

Too, he would all too soon be cooped up for the long journey home.

He had considered flying. It would be the fastest way to travel and the sooner he returned to the Medjai, the sooner he could learn to control himself. But he could not afford the expense, did not have nearly enough money to hand. He could have asked Jonathan, _should_ have, but it had seemed wrong to ask his friend–his lover–to pay the means for Ardeth to leave him.

So instead he made his way to the train station. It would take longer but he would still arrive well before the next full moon and that was all that truly mattered.

As he walked, he planned what he would need to do to return home. He thought of what he would say to the elders when he finally returned. Tried to imagine what he would do unencumbered by the burden and privilege of leading the Medjai.

He tried not to think about how much he would rather be in Jonathan's arms than face any of that.

But still he found his steps slowing. His mind kept turning from his plans to memories of the previous night. To the way Jonathan tasted. How he moved beneath Ardeth. The way his skin glowed in the moonlight.

Ardeth shook himself free of such thoughts only to realize he was headed back the way he came. He turned away and started marching towards the station again.

The third time he found himself trying to return to the manor he stopped walking altogether and hailed a taxicab.

If he could not rely on his own feet to carry him away, he would have to ensure he could not turn back again.

The driver was silent, for which Ardeth was grateful. He was in no mood to converse with a stranger over unimportant matters. His thoughts kept drifting back to the manor, even if his body could no longer do so.

He tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted, dismissing it as nerves, aggravated at himself. But the further from the manor he traveled, the worse it became, until it was no longer merely a discomfort but had started to become painful.

The sudden stop of the cab jolted him back to awareness. He paid the driver and exited with all due haste. Every instinct told him to turn around, to head back to the manor, back to Jonathan but he forged ahead instead.

If he didn't leave now, he was unsure he would be able to do so.

He continued forward, one step at a time, because he did not know what else to do.

Ticket paid for, he pushed through the crowds ignoring both his own feelings and the overwhelming scents and sounds of those around him. He forced himself to focus on finding the right train and carriage.

But when he did, he could not board it. He stood on the platform unable to move. He knew he could not go back but even thinking of going forward made pain spike in his gut. He nearly doubled over when he finally managed to take one step forward.

The shrill blast of the train's whistle broke him out of his paralysis. He stumbled away from the train with a gasp. He glanced around wildly but all the faces were unfamiliar, people going about their business and paying him no mind.

He barely felt himself turn away from the train. He was breathing hard enough that the edges of his vision had started to gray.

But each slow step away reduced the pain.

By the time he was halfway back to the manor the pain had faded back to a discomfort. He was only blocks away when the sensation faded completely, stopping him in his tracks. He leaned against a nearby wall, breathed deeply and tried to pull together the ragged edges of his composure.

Now that the feeling had passed he could finally think again. And he could only think of one thing that could explain what had happened.

Before he could contemplate what it meant he registered a new scent, one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

It was faint, nearly subsumed in the crush of humanity, but the scent was still distinct enough to recognize.

There was another werewolf in London.

As Ardeth approached the manor, the last of his discomfort eased. When he reached the door he considered knocking but tried the knob instead. He was surprised to find it unlocked. He let himself inside but there was no sign of Jonathan in the immediate area.

He followed his nose and wasn't surprised to find Jonathan in the kitchen. The Englishman was kneading dough, all his concentration on his hands. Ardeth must have made a sound, for Jonathan's head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan smiled widely, before it was replaced with a frown. “What's happened? Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” Ardeth's muscles relaxed more the closer Jonathan came, relieving a tension he hadn't even realized he carried.

“Really? Because I must say you are scowling quite fiercely for someone who is fine,” Jonathan said. He stopped just short of Ardeth, floury hands reaching but not touching.

Ardeth ignored that in favor of pulling Jonathan into an embrace. He buried his face in Jonathan's neck, inhaling deeply of his comforting scent.

The shudder that wracked his frame was unexpected, as was the way his body relaxed almost to the point of being lax. Jonathan gripped him tightly as Ardeth swayed on his feet.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan tried to pull away and Ardeth tightened his grip without thought. The other man subsided and tightened his own hold. “Not that I'm not thrilled to see you but what's going on? You're beginning to worry me.”

“I apologize, my friend. It was not my intention to concern you.” Jonathan's shrug was more felt than seen. “It would seem the 'wolf's–my–instincts are stronger even than I expected.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan stroked his back lightly. Ardeth pushed thoughts of petting out of his mind.

“As I said, werewolves are just as territorial as real wolves,” Ardeth sighed and finally pulled back, needing to see Jonathan's face. “It would seem that on some level I view this as my territory. I found trying to leave rather distressing.”

“Distressing?” Jonathan's brow furrowed.

“Leaving the manor made me quite anxious.” Ardeth paced to the window. “By the time I tried to board a train it was physically painful. Returning brought relief.”

“Painful?” Jonathan's hand gripped his shoulder turning Ardeth to face him. “You said you were fine!”

“And I am,” Ardeth soothed the furrow between his brows with a finger. “The pain has gone as if it never existed. I'm perfectly fine. 

“As long as I am here.” Ardeth sighed. “This complicates things considerably.”

“I don't understand,” Jonathan said. “I mean, I understand the territory bit but why would leaving be painful? Surely werewolves must leave their territories sometimes. That seems a bit counterproductive. And the train station isn't that far, that seems a bit small, as far as territories go.”

“Werewolves do leave their territories, sometimes permanently, for many differing reasons.” Ardeth shrugged. “I can only assume it is because I am so newly turned and that the effects will fade in time as I gain control.”

“In time?” Jonathan stepped back into him and Ardeth wound his arms around his back. “How much time?”

“I am unsure,” Ardeth admitted. “At least a few months, though probably longer as there is no pack or clan here to ground me.”

“Hmm,” Jonathan ducked his head. Ardeth suspected he was hiding a smile and he could not begrudge him that. A part of him was pleased he had an excuse to spend more time with his lover.

“I must send a message to the Medjai,” Ardeth pulled away slowly but did not loose his grip entirely. “They will need to know that I'll be absent for an extended period.”

“I should contact Evy as well,” Jonathan said as he turned away, pulling Ardeth out of the kitchen with the hand he still held. “Do you think it would be safe for them to return on schedule or should I tell them to stay away?”

“The dungeon has proved sound, so it should be safe enough,” Ardeth considered. “And having your family around may act like having a pack, though a small one. But.”

“But,” Jonathan repeated, looking at him over his shoulder. “Ah, you're concerned that if your 'wolf or instincts or what have you sees them as pack, it'll make it that much harder to leave.”

“Yes,” Ardeth was relieved he didn't have to find the words to explain. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to bed,” Jonathan answered. “We can figure out everything later, but right now, we're taking a nap.”

“We didn't awaken all that long ago,” Ardeth commented but did not resist as he was pulled into Jonathan's bedroom.

“True but it's been a trying few days,” Jonathan began to strip efficiently so Ardeth did the same. “And you still look quite wrung out, even if you insist you're fine.”

Ardeth didn't contradict him, just climbed into the bed and curled around Jonathan. Holding the other man was no hardship; it was all too easy and comfortable.

As Jonathan's breathing slowed and evened out, Ardeth could not help but worry. It had only been a day and he already felt an ease and peace with Jonathan that he'd never experienced with another lover before.

The thought of leaving him made his chest tight. He wanted to growl at something, lash out at the fate that would bring them together, only to pull them apart. Never before had thoughts of his duty weighed so heavily upon him.

How much harder would it be to leave in a week, a month, a season?

Jonathan bustled about the kitchen starting tea and coffee while Ardeth pulled the remains of the previous evening's meal from the refrigerator. There was quite a bit left as they hadn't eaten much.

For Jonathan's part, he'd been too upset at Ardeth's impending departure. He wondered–hoped–that it had been the same for Ardeth.

He couldn't honestly say he felt guilty at all for being relieved at their reprieve. Though he did wish it hadn't come at the cost of causing Ardeth pain.

His thoughts were interrupted by warm arms around his waist pulling him back against a hard chest. Ardeth hmmed–almost a grow really–as he buried his face against Jonathan's neck. Jonathan tilted his head aside to give him better access. Short little puffs against his flesh made him shiver.

He turned in the circle of the Medjai's arms. He looped his own arms around Ardeth's neck, burying his hands in soft curls, using his grip to drag Ardeth's mouth to his own.

Ardeth pressed them tighter together, growling when Jonathan parted his lips in invitation. Ardeth tasted of something spicy and sweet that Jonathan was sure he could become addicted to.

A sharp whistle startled him into biting down, flooding his mouth with a coppery tang. He pulled back and was dismayed to see a bright spot of blood on Ardeth's lips.

“Ardeth–I–” Jonathan couldn't seem to catch his breath. Couldn't _think_.

“The kettle is ready,” Ardeth sounded amused and wholly unconcerned. He didn't even have the decency to be out of breath.

“Yes, the kettle. Right.” Jonathan turned around and forced himself to focus on making tea and coffee. “Sorry about the, uh–”

“No harm done,” Ardeth smiled at him as he took his mug and set at the table. “It is healed already.”

“Really?” Jonathan perked up as he joined the Medjai. “That's amazing.”

“It is one of the benefits of being a werewolf.” Ardeth said.

“Well, I'm glad there's at least one, as the drawbacks seem rather unpleasant.” Jonathan stabbed his sausage with unnecessary force as he tried not to remember the painful sounds of a body forcible torn apart and made anew.

“There are many benefits–increased healing, sharper senses, greater strength.” Ardeth said. “There are those who choose to be changed to gain such advantages.”

“I suppose that's not unreasonable,” Jonathan replied. “If it's your choice.”

“I may not have chosen this,” Ardeth paused until Jonathan meet his eyes. “But I cannot undo what has happened, I can only go forward.”

“I suppose that's all anyone can do,” Jonathan said. “The question is, what is it we need to do now? At the very least we'll need to go to market soon. Though that'd best be done in the morning.”

“I still need to send word to the Medjai,” Ardeth refilled his plate for the second time and Jonathan mentally noted that they would need to consider Ardeth's new appetite when they went shopping. Being a werewolf was apparently hungry work. “A coded telegram to a contact in Cairo should suffice.”

“We should make our own code when Evy and the others return,” Jonathan mussed. “I can only imagine the looks I would get if I tried to explain this by telegram. 'Hope you're trip is going well. Stop. Ardeth is visiting. Stop. Has become werewolf. Stop. Please return soonest. Stop.'”

Ardeth's unrestrained laughter brought a warmth to his chest and a smile to his face. “I suppose I shall have to request they send me a message with a number and time I can try to call them at. It'll be dreadfully expensive but we can afford it thanks to our undead friend. I confess I miss them more than I expected.

“It'll be good to hear from them even if the circumstances aren't the best.”

Ardeth reached over and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Jonathan returned it and smiled when the Medjai returned to eating without letting go.

After leaving the telegraph office, Ardeth convinced Jonathan to walk rather than return for the car straight away. They still had several stops before they returned home and Ardeth was enjoying the fresh air.

They visited several shops to obtain clothes and toiletries; Ardeth had refused outright to visit a tailor, he had impugned on Jonathan's generosity too much as it was. Still, he couldn't spend the next few months wearing the meager amount of clothes he had with him, no matter how strange it would be to wear “trousers.”

As pleasant as the outing was though, and as much as he enjoyed seeing Jonathan's enjoyment, he longed to return to the manor. The smells and sounds of so much life crowded together were beginning to overwhelm him. The press of so many people left him feeling trapped and watched.

“Do you know,” Jonathan turned to him with a bright smile. “I do believe we are being followed.”

“Oh,” Ardeth blinked in surprise. “Where?”

“The fellow across the street, standing next to the lady in the truly hideous hat,” Jonathan stopped and gave every appearance of being absorbed in perusing the items in a shop front window. Ardeth tilted his head just so, so that he might see the reflection of the street behind them. “I remember seeing him at least twice since we left the telegraph office.”

The man was easy to locate, even without the hideous hat for reference. Of average height and a bulky build, the man was openly staring their way. If he meant to be subtle, he was failing. If he meant to be intimidating he was still failing and only engendering annoyance and anger instead.

Ardeth looked past the reflection and into the window but did not truly see the wares. All his concentration was focused on ignoring the urge to charge across the street and remove the threat.

“Ardeth?” Jonathan's hand on his arm brought his attention back. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, but we must go,” Ardeth guided Jonathan away with one hand at the small of his back.

“What's going on?” Jonathan asked even as he moved with Ardeth.

“I believe he is a werewolf. I scented one early, when I was returning to the manor.” Ardeth quickened their pace as much as he could on the crowded street. “He's setting my instincts on edge and I'm afraid I may lose control if he continues to pursue us.”

“Ah,” Jonathan stopped abruptly, before grabbing Ardeth's hand and urging him to move faster. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Forgetting something?” Ardeth repeated, distracted by trying to keep track of the other 'wolf.

“That would explain the howling I heard during the full moon. I meant to mention it to you, in case it wasn't just dogs and as I wasn't sure if you would remember anything while you were–” Jonathan made an aborted gesture with his free hand. “But it slipped my mind and it wasn't repeated the third night, so I forgot about it entirely.”

“How many?” Ardeth asked as he turned Jonathan down an alley that he hoped would prove to be a shortcut back to the car.

“At least two,” Jonathan shrugged. “Sounded like a whole pack of them but I'm hardly an expert on wolf howls.”

Ardeth opened his mouth to reply but stopped abruptly. There was a man blocking their way. He was not the man who had been following them. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that he was still behind them.

Ardeth drew his sword from concealment, glad after all that Jonathan had insisted they have all their purchases delivered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jonathan draw a gun from under his coat. He pressed his back to Jonathan's, facing the man–the werewolf–in front of him and trusting Jonathan to cover the one behind them.

“No need to be alarmed,” the man in front of him raised empty hands as he called out. “We're only here to talk.”

“I apologize if I have intruded on your territory,” Ardeth returned. “I was unaware there was a pack in London.”

“Oh, it's nothing like that,” came a voice from behind him.

“Then what is it like?” Jonathan's voice was steady and demanding.

“This doesn't concern you, human,” the 'wolf behind him growled.

“Anything that concerns me, concerns him.” Ardeth could hear the growl in his own voice, the way he lisped around suddenly elongated canines. He tightened his grip on his sword and forced himself not to turn around, to keep his eyes on the threat before him.

“Well now, that can easily be arranged,” the first 'wolf spoke again. “You deprived us of a pack mate, it's only right that you replace him. We certainly wouldn't say no to gaining two for one. By all means, bring the little poof along. I'm sure our alpha will find him entertaining.”

Ardeth's lunge forward was ground to a halt by a painfully loud crack. The 'wolf before him fell back as if physically repulsed by the immensely loud sound. Ardeth shook his head to try and clear the ringing from his ears and looked back at Jonathan.

He was calmly reloading his pistol, eyes focused on the first 'wolf, face blank and hard. The 'wolf leaned against the alley wall, one hand wrapped around his arm, blood seeping through his fingers, eyes wide and shocked.

Jonathan dismissed him, turning gun and attention to the 'wolf before Ardeth.

“As tempting as that offer sounds,” Jonathan's voice was colder and flatter than Ardeth had ever heard it. “I'm afraid we must decline.

“Now, will you let us pass, or are we about to have a problem?”

“You–” the wolf's words became garbled as his jaw changed shape, accommodating a mouth full of fangs. Jonathan's aim never wavered.

The 'wolf lunged and Jonathan fired. Ardeth grabbed his hand and dragged him away, past the collapsed form of their attacker. They ran and did not stop until they reached the dubious safety of the car.

Jonathan charged up the main stairs, headed to the gun room. He needed more bullets. He needed more guns. _Bigger_ guns.

“I must go.” The quiet words stopped him in his tracks. He whirled around to see Ardeth looking up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

“What?” Jonathan questioned. Surely he couldn't mean that how it sounded.

“I must go,” the Medjai repeated. “They have come for me. I will leave and draw them away.”

“Are you out of your bloody mind?!?” Jonathan demanded.

“Jonathan.” Ardeth's voice held a note of warning that Jonathan blithely ignored.

“You're crazy if you think I'm going to go along with that.” Jonathan spun back around and continued on his way.

“Jonathan. Jonathan!” Jonathan ignored Ardeth's cursing and the sounds of footsteps racing after him. But he couldn't ignore being spun around and slammed into the wall, nor the body pinning him in place.

“I cannot let them hurt you,” he snarled, voice choked. “It would destroy me.”

“And you think it wouldn't destroy _me_ if they hurt _you_?” Jonathan's voice rose with his temper.

“Jonathan,” Ardeth's voice was so strangled it was hardly comprehensible. “I–I cannot–”

“You can't go. No, listen to me,” he insisted when Ardeth looked to respond. “You tried that once already and it didn't work. You barely made it to the train station and looked a wreck when you returned.

“How are you going to lead them away when you can't leave?”

Ardeth's only response was to growl and duck his head to press his forehead to Jonathan's chest. Jonathan tentatively brought his arms around the other man, pulling him tighter against him.

“Besides,” he continued as gently as he could. “Even if you could leave, what's to stop them from coming after me anyway. I hurt them today, maybe even killed one of them. They might decide to grab me to use against you or even as another replacement.

“I'm no safer with you gone and considerably safer with you here.”

Ardeth didn't move, didn't speak, for minutes that felt like days. Finally, he raised his head and looked Jonathan in the eye. He gasped as he realized the Medjai's familiar dark eyes had turned amber but he didn't flinch.

Not even when the 'wolf's grip tightened painfully and he slammed their mouths together. Ardeth bit at his lips and forced his tongue inside when he gasped. The taste of blood was shared between them and they both groaned.

Jonathan whimpered when Ardeth pulled away but he didn't go far. The Medjai shifted his grip from Jonathan's arms to his thighs, lifting him against the wall and crowding between his thighs. Jonathan wrapped his legs around Ardeth's hips as he pressed his hardness to Jonathan's, drawing sounds from him he hadn't even known he could make.

He pressed his lips against Jonathan's urgently, even as he rocked his hips slowly. Jonathan scrabbled at his shoulders, trying to find some leverage, but Ardeth only pressed him more firmly to the wall. He sank one hand into Ardeth's hair, pulling harder than he meant in his urgency. By the way he moaned, Ardeth didn't mind and he finally began to grind against him harder, faster.

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak, pleasure so intense it was almost pain rolled up his spine and whited out his mind. He might have been embarrassed by how quickly he had come if he could form a single thought. He was barely aware enough to register Ardeth shuddering and gasping against him.

For a long time he floated blissfully, mind blank, as his breathing returned to normal. He had no idea how much time had passed before Ardeth pushed off from the wall. He didn't put Jonathan down, merely carried him into the closest washroom.

He finally deposited Jonathan on the counter before turning the shower on to heat. Then he slowly stripped both of their clothes and pulled Jonathan under the warm spray. Jonathan's body felt loose and lax, so he merely stood under the spray and allowed the water and Ardeth's hands to remove the evidence of their activities.

Once they were clean and dry, Jonathan took over, taking Ardeth by the hand and leading the way to his bedroom. Once inside he pulled the unresisting man to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Whatever we do, stay or go, we'll do it together,” Jonathan whispered against Ardeth's lips.

Before the other man could reply, the air was rent by a howl so loud it sounded as if it was right on top of them. Then a second. And a third. And a fourth.

They barely took the time to throw clothes on before racing for the gun room.

“Is there anywhere we could barricaded ourselves and pick them off from?” Ardeth asked as they armed themselves with as many weapons as they could carry.

“No,” Jonathan's voice was as grim as his expression. “There's a priest hole in the library but I don't think that would really do us much good.”

“No,” Ardeth agreed. If only they'd had time to prepare.

The sound of breaking glass reached their ears. By mutual agreement, they headed away from it, toward the rear of the house. Before they took more than a few steps, Ardeth caught the scent of an unfamiliar werewolf.

Rage rushed through him and he drew his lips back as he snarled a challenge. He charged forward, ignoring Jonathan calling for him. All his focus was on the one who dared to intrude in his home.

He found the 'wolf on the main stair, halfway to the second floor. Ardeth didn't even break stride, slamming into the other wolf, tangling them together as they rolled down the stairs.

“Damn it, Ardeth,” Jonathan yelled at him. “Get off him, I need a clear shot!”

Ardeth ignored him in favor of sinking his teeth into the other 'wolf's shoulder. He howled, raking claws down Ardeth's back. Ardeth pushed the burning pain away and struck again, this time burying fangs into soft flesh. Blood flooded his mouth and his opponent made an odd gurgling sound as he began thrashing. Ardeth didn't let go until he went limp.

A shot rang out before he could untangle himself. He rolled to his feet, coming up in a crouch, looking for his next opponent. Instead his gaze landed on a sprawled body, only a few feet away, eyes glazed and blood seeping out from beneath its chest.

Jonathan started to descend the stairs but Ardeth held up a hand. He listened intently to try and pinpoint the locations of the other 'wolves, unable to smell anything at that point aside from blood. He had only a moment's warning before a body slammed into him from the left.

As he tangled with his new assailant he could feel his control slipping further. Pain wracked his body as bones broke and reformed in new configurations. The bucking and writhing of his shifting body tore him from the other 'wolf's grip. He tried to roll to his feet, only to find newly formed paws tangled by cloth.

His enemy laughed, lashing out too fast to dodge, fist slamming into Ardeth's head. He stumbled, fell, barely staggered upright in time to avoid a kick. Cloth rent as it was trapped under his opponent and he finally twisted himself free but not without cost. Another blow slammed into his ribs, stealing his breath.

Ardeth scrambled backwards, desperate for a little breathing room. His attacker laughed again and began to strip. Ardeth ignored the pain and pushed himself to attack while the other was off balance attempting to shed his pants.

Blood arced as fangs and claws found purchase in flesh. The other roared, fist landing a glancing blow to his neck. Ardeth danced out of range, circling his prey, searching for an opening.

A cry of pain wrenched his attention back to the stairs. A fully transformed wolf had Jonathan pinned down, teeth buried in an upraised arm. All thought fled as rage blinded him to everything but the one who would dare to hurt his mate.

The pain was like nothing Jonathan had ever felt before, making him feel faint and nauseous. He could feel his bones grind together as the 'wolf bore down on him. He desperately wanted to yank his arm free but he knew it was the only thing keeping those powerful jaws from ripping out his throat.

He scrabbled for a weapon, any weapon, with his free hand.

He couldn't help but scream as his bones snapped. His vision darkened and nearly went black. He barely registered the wolf releasing him, drawing back. It threw its head back and howled just as Jonathan's grasping fingers closed about a knife hilt.

He surged forward, sinking the blade into the creature's exposed throat.

The knife was wrenched from weak fingers as the wolf thrashed on top of him. Jonathan fell back, gasping as his broken arm was jarred. He screamed again and truly did black out as a heavy body landed on top of him.

He gasped as consciousness returned, nerves screaming in pain, blackness trying to suck him back down again. But he could still hear growling and snarling, heavy bodies colliding. So he grit his teeth and used his good arm to push the body off him.

He grabbed his dropped pistol and staggered upright. The edges of his vision grayed as he swayed and he would've fallen if not for the handrail. He sucked in air like a man drowning, nearly falling as he took his first step.

Good arm braced against the rail, the other hanging limp and useless, he stumbled the rest of the way down the stairs.

Two wolves–one dark furred, the other light–were locked together, clawing and biting viciously. Blood splattered the floor of the foyer. Jonathan raised his gun, but he was too unsteady to risk taking a shot. He cursed as he could only watch as Ardeth battled for his life.

When it was over it happened too quickly for Jonathan to see. One moment the two wolves were locked together, the next Ardeth stood over his foe, muzzle buried in the other's throat.

Jonathan sat abruptly, nearly blacking out again as his arm was jarred by his sudden acquaintance with the floor.

“Well, that's that sorted then,” Jonathan's voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

Ardeth's head snapped up, amber eyes focusing on him with burning intensity. He had only a breath to worry if the Medjai would turn on him.

Ardeth whined loudly, ducking his head and tucking his tail between his legs. He approached Jonathan slowly and stopped just out of casual reach. He whined again, then whimpered as the sound of breaking bones and rending flesh signaled Ardeth's return to human form.

He collapsed, naked and gasping, but drug himself to Jonathan's side.

“Your arm,” Ardeth's voice sounded even rougher than Jonathan's. “We must get you help.”

Jonathan stared at his arm, unconcerned, though he knew he should be. “It'll heal, right?” Ardeth made a choked sound but Jonathan kept speaking. “I mean, I was bitten by a werewolf, so I am one now, aren't I?”

“Jonathan,” Ardeth sounded so grieved, it finally dragged Jonathan's attention away from his arm.

“It's alright,” he murmured and tried to cup Ardeth's cheek. He didn't have the strength and his hand fell short. Ardeth grabbed it and pressed it to his chest.

“No, it's not.” He sighed. “Your arm will heal but it must be set to ensure it heals correctly.”

“We'd best call Dr. Bentley, then.” Jonathan nodded. “For what we pay him, he can make a house call on such short notice.”

Looking around at the mess of blood and bodies that surrounded them, he reconsidered. “Perhaps we should go to him after all. I don't think even I could afford to buy his silence for all this.”

Ardeth watched Jonathan sleep, eyes unable to look away from his chest as it rose and fell. He'd come so close to losing him, it was hard not to fear he would stop breathing if Ardeth looked away.

Jonathan's right arm rested on a pillow, splinted but not casted. Dr. Bentley had raised his brows at Jonathan's orders but he'd held his tongue. He was as accommodating and as efficient as Jonathan had said; Ardeth could only hope he would prove as discreet.

It wasn't long before Jonathan began to stir. Ardeth stroked his hair back as his eyes fluttered open. Jonathan blinked sleep out of his eyes before focusing on Ardeth.

He did not deserve the warm smile he was graced with.

“Good morning,” Jonathan's voice rasped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Morning. What has you so serious so early?”

“I am so sorry, Jonathan.” Ardeth closed his eyes and all he could see was Jonathan pinned under a murderous werewolf.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Jonathan gasped as he tried to push himself upright. 

Ardeth stilled him with a touch. “I should have never come here. I should have never put you in such danger.”

“There was no way you could've known any of this would happen,” Jonathan's eyes were so blue and earnest, Ardeth had to look away.

“You could have been killed. You _were_ changed against your will.” Ardeth could barely force the words out past the lump in his throat. “Because of me.”

“I could have said no.” Jonathan pushed himself upright, throwing off his restraining hand. “I could have turned you away.

“I chose not too, even though I _knew_ , full well, the kind of trouble that always happens whenever we're in the same place at the same time.

“I chose to let you in,” Jonathan pulled his face around and forced Ardeth to meet his eyes. “And I would do it again even knowing what would happen.”

Ardeth couldn't stand to look into his guileless eyes any longer. He buried his face in Jonathan's chest, sucking in ragged breaths, surrounded by his familiar and beloved scent.

“The only ones to blame for this are the bloody bastards who thought they had the right to come in here and do whatever they liked to us.” Jonathan carded his fingers through Ardeth's hair, tugging gently. “And they're all dead, so they got what they deserved as far as I'm concerned.”

Ardeth thought they deserved far worse than quick, clean deaths but kept such unworthy thoughts to himself. That was for Allah to decide.

“It wasn't a territorial imperative that brought me back,” Ardeth confessed. “It was you.”

“What?” Jonathan's eyes were wide when Ardeth looked up, his mouth hanging open.

“I didn't realize the truth until I saw you so close to death,” Ardeth pressed his forehead to Jonathan's, never looking away from his eyes. “ _You_ were why I could not leave.

“When we went out together, we went farther from the manor than the train station and I didn't feel a single twinge.”

“Oh,” Jonathan breathed softly. “What does that mean?”

“Wolves mate for life,” Ardeth said. “I've heard tale that the same is true of werewolves. I don't know if it is truth or legend but I cannot bear the thought of being parted from you.”

“Well then,” Jonathan paused and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “I guess we've got some planning to do, as I've no intention of ever being parted from you, either.”

“Jonathan?” Ardeth couldn't help the flutter of hope he felt.

“I don't know what'll happen,” Jonathan brushed a kiss across his lips, soft and short. “But I do know, whatever the future may hold, we're in this together.”

* * *

yours is the light by which my spirit's born:  
yours is the darkness of my soul's return  
–you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

– E. E. Cummings


End file.
